Organized Chaos
by refracted
Summary: We were never designed to be perfect.


**ORGANIZED CHAOS**

* * *

What if?

It was the question she asked herself all the time. Spending her what seemed like endless nights laying in her bed, jade eyes staring motionlessly up at the ceiling, pink hair splattered on the pillow; her mouth twitching to certain feelings that were erupted in her thoughts. She always asked herself that question. If he really ever felt anything for her. Or even cared.

Maybe it was possible that he cared for her. Maybe. But that maybe only ever existed five years ago, where the word _Team 7 _once lived. All the dreams and all of the harmony. The years that she'd never forget, the years that she wouldn't mind (at all) to spend her worthless amounts of time in her life that were left; to spend in memory lane. The time, which, might possibly have been the time that he cared for her.

But if the world counted all the times that people used the words 'might've, (what) if, possibly, maybe,' and etcetera, the number would be concluded as infinity—because, _really, _that's what people lived on these days. What could've been, what might've been, what should've been... What they _wanted _to happen, but they knew somewhere.. that it never would. Nostalgia and what-could-have-been was the world's latest chill pill. Just like him and her.

Because he's changed. He's not the same as before, she reminds herself. Something she wished she'd never have to remember. After the torturing five years that they've spent apart from each other, he certainly must've changed. After all, three years ago, he nearly killed Naruto and he was just willing to. The force and the hatred that she had seen in his eyes; the fiend that had been created in his heart... if he ever had one. And if he did, his bitter and solid heart would only ever let in things alike. For that being revenge, death, blood and sadistic nature.

However, she hasn't changed—no matter how everyone else has. She knows Naruto has changed, maybe not that much of emotionally than physically, but it was still a change. It was possibly true that Naruto still loved him as a brother, and that'd never alter, but that didn't _ever _mean that he would just give up on him, or allow him to be undermined. And the strength that Naruto had grown to have a hold on was _enormous._

She, on the other side, had changed physically of course. But what good did physical change do if her emotional change was nil? It did no good at all. Because she knew that one touch, one word or one action from that significant, alluring boy could bring down any wall she had built up; it was inevitable. It was a crazed, unwanted and unescapable weakness and _addiction _she had to him. The weakness of... loving him, and the addiction of wanting him to come back or to see one little ounce of his spiky black hair and drawing, onyx eyes.

But it'd never happen.

* * *

Maybe.

She could live on maybes this time, because, in fact, it did happen. It was bound to happen some day. She had this instinct, this compelling pull towards him, even if it wasn't reciprocated. She could somehow sense where he was, could find him, and feel his presence there. That was just a portion of revered remembrance she had kept of him inside of her. How he looked, how he spoke, how he felt, his _smell. _Even more so, it happened on a sunlit morning; paradoxical to the darkness that he depicted.

And when she noticed his existence near her, she only called his name, in an eternal longing; distant and droning. She expected him not to reply, as he didn't. He just appeared out of the bushes, his godlike, dominant and intimidating form becoming of vision. His appearance had differed over the past years: he was now wearing an Akatsuki Uniform, his hair less spiky and smoother, his built more muscular and bulky; with the adding of sharper muscles in his face and taller figure. He still towered over her, but he didn't need height to make her seem small. The one thing that she noticed vastly, however, was how his eyes were darker and icier than before, as if he had froze a stone to its extent without breaking, and adjusted it into his eyeballs.

"Why are you here?" She whispered the most obvious question, even though she was the one that had found him. They were on the outskirts of Konoha, and it wasn't that far at all from the village. It was only merely in a forest outside the gates, the trees giving the location a murky and lonesome scenery, making it seem more far away than it actually was. Once again, he didn't reply, and not even a twitch of movement of his thin lips were shown. She sighed warily.

"If you're not going to say anything, then I'm going to have to _assume _you won't do anything either," she muttered, thinking_ 'frozen statue' _shortly after. She resumed to her past action of training, throwing kunai to a near tree, and lunging forward - punching it fiercely, as if it was a human. Maybe it was him that she pictured in her mind. He watched indifferently as she broke the tree more than easily, her determined eyes watching it crunch in front of her, and her ears waiting for the satisfactory sound of an onomatopoeia.

Her emerald eyes turned on him, and he couldn't help but to realize that her eyes still held the same amount of emotion, being very expressive and having a large amount of mixed and unknown feelings that he was yet to discover. He had concluded it as a mix of mar, fear, anger, wretchedness and nostalgia; however, his obsidian eyes himself still remained fixed with non-existence. He waited for her to speak, still standing in his immobile posture.

"What to spar?" She asked, putting on her gloves, showing that even injuring a tree could've been done by bare hands. "It's better than doing nothing, if you ask me." He didn't reply even this time, not a nod or the shake of the head; but only stepped forward as an indication of the word 'yes.' She smiled slightly at his rare agreement, not even considering for a moment that this was the opportunity for him to kill her, and vice versa. She held that much trust in him, but she knew it wasn't mutual. He would've thought, she mused, that he was too "strong" for her even to cause a scar; being so egotistical that she claimed he still was.

It was only a few seconds before they flew to each other, his eyes finally creasing as a sign of concentration, but her eyes being left as emotionless. He questioned to himself before attacking her to why this was; nevertheless, the thought was thrown away by the clashing of his katana and her kunai. "That won't do well against me." He said simply, voice holding no feeling or interest. She smiled again, but the smile turned into a smirk; not one of amusement, but bitter misery and pain. Her eyes turned cynical in the last moment before she continued to distract him with her kunai, only to launch a punch on his cheek; which he barely defended, swiftly pouncing to the right of the attack.

However, he still showed no expression as blood trickled down his cheek, leaving a small scar. She knew the invisible chakra she had charged up would've got one part of him. As they both retreated to their original places, he disappeared, leaving her to close her eyes and sensitively think where he was going to attack her. As soon as she felt dirt beneath her scatter, she flung to the left, missing his katana as it filled with bright blue electricity. She smiled - she was wrong.

He was willing to kill her as well.

Again.

They returned back to their positions for the second time, but they didn't soar at each other. "What does it mean to _you _if I'm dead?" She questioned, giving a shrill, sickening laugh. "Huh?" Her eyes closed, allowing the tears that had waited to fall down since she first saw him, to cascade by her skin. He swallowed her in silence, making her drown in hurt. So you're not going to reply again," She concluded crudely, a sneer appearing on her face, filled with even more twinge and wanting. "What else have you got to do in _your _life?" She shouted the question at him, trying to dig an answer out of him.

She succeeded.

Her eyes opened as she heard him speak, his voice giving out a velvet, deep and serious tone. Tempting. "It's none of your business." He snapped back, but it was monotonous, however with an edge of resentment and harshness. He looked into her eyes, gazing into her soul as if he was reading her whole life; every tear, every mistake, and every regret. She stared at him, her eyes giving unnoticeable shock. She stepped forward cautiously, and stopped. "It _is _my business. _You _are my business." She murmured softly. "I spent my whole _life _trying to get you back, training and training to get stronger. Only to wind myself back to where I started again. Because of you." She screamed in frustration, not knowing why she loved such a person.

He watched her break down, every second her lip trembling, every tiny tear fall down. But he also watched her get a hold of herself; trying to rid of the weakness she held for him. "Isn't it about time?" She whispered, voice quieter than before. She walked forward, slowly, receiving no response from him as his eyes scrutinized her; scanning her every move. "Isn't it about time that you finished your _last goal_?" She stopped, less than a metre in front of him, her pearl, glistening eyes looking up into his orbs above. "Your dream—" She paused, allowing her phrase to show its full specific meaning, showing what he really wanted, what was the whole cause of this.

To revive his clan, to avenge it. Because, really, what was the purpose of killing if the clan was left unfilled? She knew that his main purpose was to make it alive again, to bore children and adjust it so as if his mother, father and all the other relatives had reincarnated... She smiled grimly as she paced closer again, touching him softly on his chest; only to be stopped by his katana against her neck, pushing in; like an automatic reflex. His mind filled with questions as her smile widened, as if this was what she _wanted. _He pressed the katana further into her pale and acquiescent skin, enough to cause blood. The smile didn't cease.

"You can do it." She spoke roughly, her breath siding. "You can kill me… anything to make you happy." She breathed, taking one last look into his eyes. His eyes were still staring into her own, and as a tear trickled down her cheek – she saw what she assumed to be a chimera of her own imagination – that _certain _sizzling spark of an eccentric sentiment flicker in his eyes. She ignored it, almost reluctantly. It was hard not to believe. "After all, I mean nothing to you _now, _but you're my everything… always." She closed her eyes, expecting to feel the pain and the coldness of her blood flying everywhere, in which she did; but it was a void. She felt absolutely nothing, and heard nothing. Darkness took over her, her last thought being that she even bothered to assume that he _once _cared for her. Once.

But her last _feeling _was what she swore to have been him catching her. Always.

* * *

Death.

An incessant, swirling, floating to the white nothingness.

Death.

More peaceful than life to some people.

Like her.

* * *

Never.

She didn't get what she wanted. She didn't get the eternal bliss that she had longed for so many years, despite the fake smiles and holding of tears that made other people think opposite. She _knew _she didn't get what she wanted when her eyes opened, the sight of her shadowy room appearing. It was just like waking up on that _bench... _the same feelings exploded; mostly disappointment. The tears fell down again, dripping onto her white quilts and leaving stains. She sobbed loudly, not even caring who heard her, because by the looks of it - it was deep in the night.

The _night? White? _Her tears immediately stopped, her hair flinging to the back of her head, and her eyes breaking open. A thousand questions tumbled in her head, only not to be answered but to be overcome by her own personal, perplexed confusion. Firstly, it had been bright morning when she found _him, _and her quilts weren't white. Being cliché and straightforward she was, they were pink, of course. Her eyes blinked a couple of times, and the _real _prospect appeared, a light gasp escaping her mouth as she looked into the eyes of the Sharingan; fearing the illusion that she was going to become a part of. Nevertheless, the Sharingan disappeared, fading into the black background, not consuming her in a disarray of nightmares.

"What are you doing—" She began, demanding, only to be interrupted by his throaty voice, a frustrated side to it; shortly stunning her. "You stopped crying." He said as a statement, not a question. She stared at him in bewilderment as he walked forward, his unfathomable onyx eyes becoming visible. "Why—" She enquired quickly, but her voice was cut short again. Not by his voice, but by his action. Her eyes grew wide as she watched him lean down, his eyes meeting hers on level. Her throat drained of all energy as her body filled with heat, the feel of his hot breath against her skin nearly unbearable.

"I came here to speak to you." His voice was jagged, intending that no interruptions were wanted. "To explain. I couldn't speak to you near... _Konoha_." His eyes averted to the mention of the village name. It didn't go unnoticed by her. He looked back into her eyes, his lips fumbling, trying to think of the right words. He sighed dimly as he spoke, his voice turning back to the tedious, straight tone. "I'm not going to complete my last goal." Her mind closed on itself for a moment before replying. "What?" She responded automatically, shocked. "Isn't it important to you? Haven't you wanted to do that for your whole—" He held up a hand, symbolizing for her to stop. She sighed in annoyance, inwardly cursing for his like of control. Ignorant. He looked down, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "Other things are more important." He answered, not saying anything to imply exactly _what _was more important. But she supposed the worst.

"You're going to destroy Konoha." She pointed out, as a declaration. It was unusual, how much she hated the idea, and how much she _could _detest him for thinking to destruct his past village... his home-but she didn't. Instead, her voice held lament and pity for him. Somehow. He looked back up, face bleak and a sorrowful, yet sinister frown to his face. It could be argued that it was a half smirk and half frown, like a win to a loss. As he spoke his decision that she thought he would've only made recently, his eyes burned into hers, awaiting a reaction from her.

"Yes. But I'm planning to _die _in Konoha.

Why?

"What do you mean? I don't understand!" She spluttered all at once, shaking her head furiously, trying to get rid of all the images in her head; the images of him _dying _that were building up. She refused to face the fact that he was choosing a suicide mission. She squeezed her eyes together, refusing to cry again. Instead, she threw her hands forward, trying to grip any part of him that she could. When she did, her fingers only merely scraping his shoulder, he shifted away – disappearing to the opposite wall of the room. Her eyes flew open, staring at him in multiple, unrequited pleas of 'why.'

"I'm going to attack Konoha." His voice was fierce, frank. "And I will _die _there. I won't stop anyone. I will die along with my family." She didn't comprehend anything that he said. _Anything _that had him and 'die' in the same sentence couldn't exist for her. Before she could spit any words out, he continued speaking, his voice turning from fierce to soft, broken and torn. "You were right... Sakura," He murmured, every ounce of his unstable tone breaking her further; added with her name that he hadn't said for a _long _time, making her involuntarily shiver. "There is nothing more to my life anymore," He grimaced, "I don't deserve anyone. I don't deserve to _live_."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. And she couldn't believe what she was _seeing. _She was seeing what she wanted to see for _so _many years-the sight of what he used to be. What he used to be five years ago and before. A _human. _However, all of this was so painfully ironic; and everything went the other way around. She didn't feel better that he was more of a mortal than a complete, raging monster, but she felt _terrible _that he was going through all of this hurt, especially the mention of Itachi being not a traitor, but a protector. Anything that ruined him ruined her. She watched his fist clinch until it turned white, and then, surprisingly, he drove it until it collided with the wall, cracking it. He was pouring out all of the hatred on himself, she realized, and all of the regret and anger suffered from making the wrong choices in his life; and the minute pieces of concrete that were shattering out were somehow alike to his unseen tears...

He turned back to her, his wrecked eyes meeting hers for the umpteenth time. She got up from the bed, slowly pushing herself off the creased covers. She walked forward for the second time to him, and she couldn't see any sign of rejection or disagreement. She sighed deeply as she was within less a metre of him, closing her eyes and enjoying his presence. "You know how I feel, Sasuke-kun," She whispered, biting her lip to prevent the pouring waterfall that was creating in her eyes, being caused by the lost suffix. "You know what would happen to me if you die…" She broke off the sentence, not being able to continue. She stared up at him, and his eyes were emotionless; not knowing what to say.

"Sakura..." He muttered, gripping her shoulders and holding her in a metal, unbreakable grasp. "Did you ever ask yourself… how would Ifeel if youdied?" She cringed under his hold, not wanting to answer that question, or to hear the answer to it; but the rule that his eyes were portraying was powerful. "A thousand times," She let out, voice calm. She heard him sigh irritatingly, and a mumble of incoherent words afterwards, only concluding some of the words as 'thinking, much' and 'me.'

"And you told yourself?" He questioned, eyes even more piercing than before. She took a big breath, looking away from his stare, afraid of what he would think of her answer. But, being honest as she was, and increasingly stubborn; she couldn't lie. "I thought you wouldn't care." She frowned, tears finally diminishing down, unable to be held in; realizing the despair that the statement brought if it were true. She felt his fingers leave her shoulders, and fall loudly against his sides. When she looked up at him, he was frowning as well. Suddenly, he let out a curse, holding his head with his hand; his black locks falling in between the space of his fingers.

"I – how – I _know _that I acted like I didn't care about you, Sakura," He yelled, his face not turning to her, and instead he paced around the room; visibly and obviously frustrated. "Hn… How could you be so _annoying_?" He threw his face to her, his eyes fierce and aflame; Sharingan activating. The tears dribbled angrily down her face. She hated, she resented, she _despised _the mention of that term. It brought the bad side of wistfulness into her mind. He froze as soon as her deafening sobs returned, and inwardly cursed himself; Sharingan fading.

He knew that he had hid in emotionless manners for the past few years, and it was freaking _difficult _for him to articulate anything, or to even say the right words. And, yet, he had got a crying girl in front of him; and _she _didn't even know how much he hated seeing her cry. He loathed it. Every single tear that he caused; every loud sob that wailed out undeclared words… it was killing him. Of course, he wouldn't care for any other female crying, for example Karin; but the pink-haired kunoichi was an exception.

"Sakura." He growled, advancing on her. She didn't respond. Wanting of tenure welled up in him. "Sakura." He sighed heatedly, doing the only thing that came up into his mind. He pushed his hand under her chin, forcing it up so that her eyes faced his. Her eyes were so vulnerable to him, like the perfect jewels-the perfect jewels that only _he _owned. As her orbs filled with habitual fear, and tears continued to weep down, a deep sound erupted from his chest before he crushed his lips onto hers.

She floated.

He was kissing her. He was kissing her furiously, possessively-all in wrath. Her lips softened against him, like marshmallows against a flame; and her cries ceased, making him smirk into the kiss. Yet, he was still livid, still livid at himself. He didn't know, he didn't _understand _how he caused so much pain for her. He knew he was a horrible person, but the real question was why she still _cared. _He quickly pulled her to him, crushing her against his muscular frame; his arms wrapping protectively around her waist as if she was going to disappear. She responded to securely wrapping her arms around his neck, pushing her lips harder against his; kissing with all of her passion and love that she could muster.

As they retracted from a need of oxygen, he leant his forehead against hers, watching her stare at him in amazement; despite the usual smile that he had never got tired of appearing on her face, brighter than any smile she had given out in her life. "I love you. _I love you._" She spoke out in a rush, almost beseeching and frantic. His eyes softened as the expression increased vastly in her eyes, almost shimmering like a moonlight reflection on a pure river. She gasped as she saw the alleviation of his eyes, and the twinkling glint glimmer in his eyes – for real this time.

He leaned closer amongst her forehead, only lightly brushing his lips against hers again. He heard her moan at the loss of contact; disappointed by the quick kiss - seemingly not enough for her. His body filled with warmth at the sound, making him feel _wanted. _He sighed in content, but that was shortly broken. "Do you love me?" She asked, voice hopeful and high-octave. He stared at her, and questioned himself at how she could hold such a radiance in her after everything he's done. She was an angel. However, he wasn't strong enough in his emotions to answer such an abrupt question. Instead, he gave the best he could master, and that best pushed him back to his old ways...

"Sakura." She saw his onyx eyes turn into ferocious red, and the bundle of protests in her thoughts fell over each other, her eyes turning from hopeful to destroyed. The image and sounds of the night he left overlapped with the current happening, poisoning her mind. The cruel crimson, however, that she was slowly frenzied by; was what she felt to be superfluous. He didn't want to do this, he didn't-but he did. He _did. _And amongst all of the grief, all of the regrets, the reminiscences, the ache, the nostalgia, the love and the happiness-amongst all of that, she could only _barely _pink up three words before she fell into oblivion.

"I haven't changed."

* * *

Finally.

This time, she woke up in her room, her bed left as if it was unscathed. She was under her covers perfectly, just as she was that morning when all of this had started. Normally, she would've thought this to be a dream, but the minor feeling still lingered on her lips. The window was closed, and all in the room was silent; her own personal void to think in. To evaluate all that had happened. She didn't know if to smile or frown. After all, she had finally experienced what he really _was _like, but, she knew that his demise was slowly coming.

Someday, she thought, he would be at the gates; amongst all of the Sound troops-and she could pretend, she could pretend that it was _him, _coming home. Finally. She had pretended for the last few years, and she could do it again. On balance, he _really _was coming back. He was coming back to his family. His home. However, her first wanting was to find out whether he cared; and it was answered. So she smiled. She never changed, and neither did he. They had both never stopped caring-maybe even _loving _each other. This time not changing was a good thing.

And, maybe, just maybe, she'd meet him in that white nothingess.


End file.
